


He Dreams

by Rasalahuge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (mostly), Angst, Canon Compliant, Force Sensitive Clones, Insomnia, M/M, Prophetic Dreams, The Force, acceptance of death, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15525777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasalahuge/pseuds/Rasalahuge
Summary: He's been dreaming for as long as he can remember, but it takes him a while to realise that they aren't normal dreams. The only people he knows who dream of events before they happen are the Jedi, but he isn't a Jedi. He's just a clone. What is he supposed to do? Where is he even supposed to start preventing these dreams? What is he supposed to do when there's one he doesn't want to prevent?One dream that's been with him longer than anything else. One voice he's known longer than any other. The first voice he ever knew, the last one he will ever hear.Don't go, stay with me, stay with me. Fives. Fives. Don't go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lets call this a belated 'Hurray Clone Wars is Returning' fic.

_Fives no. C’mon Fives. Don’t go, stay with me, stay with me. Fives. Fives. Don’t go._

He dreams the words over and over again, long before he really understands any of it. It’s not the words, though, that really haunt him; it’s the voice. A familiar voice, a beloved one, one that means more to him than he can say, but also a voice he doesn’t know for all its familiarity. He doesn’t understand, it’s a brother but it’s not a brother and something inside him whispers _not yet, not yet, not yet._

 

He is a cadet and he dreams of failing.

His brothers tell him it’s just nerves. After all everyone knows what happens to clones that fail and it is a nightmare none of them want to see as truth. He knows, though, knows it’s more than that. He doesn’t know how he knows; it’s just there like those words that voice…

He dreams of arguments, of Droidbait falling and the simulation ending and automatic fail. He dreams of a Jedi and a second chance and lifting the flag.

After it happens, as they pile into a ship, he sits in the corner staring at his brand new helmet and tells himself it was his imagination. He hadn’t really dreamt it. It was ridiculous. That night the same voice calls to him, begs him not to go. The beloved stranger who is so desperate…

Fives shakes himself awake in the middle of the night cycle and tries not to weep, because he doesn’t want to go.

 

He is a shiny and he dreams of droids and eels and explosions.

He tells himself it’s just boredom and an overactive imagination. Hevy laughs and Cutup wants to know if he means eels or _eels_ and who had the biggest _eel _while Droidbait and Echo share a look that wondered what they had done wrong to have batch brothers like these ones. He laughs with them, tells himself it’s nothing because why would droids ever attack _Rishii_. That’s why Domino squad is even here, because the GAR isn’t stupid enough to post a squad that scraped a pass on the back of a General’s pity to anywhere important. It’s just a dream.__

Except he dreams Droidbait dies without firing a single shot. He dreams of Cutup’s scream as the eel snaps his spine. He dreams of Hevy and ‘Do we take prisoners?’ ‘I don’t’. If he dreams of the beloved stranger then he doesn’t realise it’s any different from his usual dreams. 

They escape the base and Cutup is suddenly gone and he knows what happens next but the words stick in his throat as he looks at Hevy. He doesn’t know. He _thinks_ but he doesn’t _know_ and then Commander Cody and Captain Rex are there and _he knows that voice_. It’s so easy to just fall into trusting them, to believing that they’ll look after these three shinnies that are in over their head. 

As the base burns and his brothers signal the ships come to rescue them he watches the flames and knows it’s his fault. Knows he will carry Hevy’s death with him forever. This time when he wakes shaking in the night it isn’t because that beloved stranger is begging, it’s because Hevy is. Hevy is begging for Fives to save him and he knew, he knew but he did nothing. 

 

He is a trooper and he dreams of death. 

He doesn’t pretend it isn’t what it is anymore. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how, he just knows that it isn’t a lie or nerves or boredom. He dreams and then those dreams come true. Echo sits with him as he speaks, eyes solemn and trusting, and his brother promises to help by whatever means necessary. He doesn’t (can’t) tell Echo that all too often it’s his death that he dreams of. 

He dreams of death and he tries to stop it but he isn’t enough. He’s just one trooper, above average, but not remarkable and he can’t stop it. He dreams of death and Echo is there to help him try but when he fails he still dreams of death and he goes and walks the empty halls of the cruiser wishing he could be more. 

“Are you alright trooper?” it’s _that_ voice. He had wondered if he’d imagined it, in the stress of Rishii, but he knows he didn’t. He turns to see his Captain, the beloved stranger who begs him not to leave, and wonders. Captain Rex is a senior officer, he is a trooper, there’s no reason for them to be close, no reason the Captain would beg him not to leave. Well… not unless he changes that. 

“Couldn’t sleep, sir,” he answers and wonders if this is just going to make that dream come true. If by speaking he was dooming himself to that end. He thinks it might be worth it though, to have that beloved stranger just be his beloved Captain. 

Captain Rex takes Fives to the shooting range to shut his brain down so he can sleep and in the quiet of night the two of them bond as their respective positions shouldn’t have let them. 

 

He’s a Sergeant and he dreams of driving rain and children bleeding out. 

The promotion is unexpected even if Echo teases him and tells him he deserved it. He has been putting a lot of effort in, true, working on his skills in the dead of night with no one but a pair of jaig eyes watching. He has been trying to find a way to make sure his dreams don’t come true. He just didn’t realise it would have an effect elsewhere. He knows Captain Rex has nothing to do with it, the recommendation coming from his lieutenant and company captain, but he can’t shake the guilt that this only happened because he spends so much time with the legion’s commander. 

Then he dreams of Kamino, of driving rain and an assault on the barracks and children – _his brothers_ – dying by the droves. It’s the invasion; the one Hevy delayed by giving his life, but apparently didn’t stop. He still feels the guilt, so he tells Echo and they hatch a plan, a dozen plans, as many as they need. When they’re deployed on Kamino Fives takes his squad and they position themselves at a single, overlooked entrance to the barracks for the younger cadets. Captain Rex, checking on infiltration points before the battle starts, compliments him for noticing but Fives doesn’t feel anything except grim expectation. 

He and Echo have sniper rifles, the rest of his squad ordered to cover them and not press forward into what he knows will be a constant battle. It isn’t enough, they take out dozens upon dozens of droids but by the end he and Echo are driven back into the barracks. The last survivors of their squad. Again. Echo calls for reinforcements while he rallies the cadets and Ninety-Nine, but there’s no one free. There are too many droids in too many places, they’ve broken through in more than one place and could be coming up behind them at any time. 

He improvises, Echo right along with him where he belonged and Captain Rex and Commander Cody turning up at the exact right moment. Ninety-Nine gives his life yet in the end he stands in the barracks looking out at the driving rain and not a single one of the cadets is dead. Injured, yes, but not dead. 

“You did it,” Echo tells him. “Hevy would be proud.” He doesn’t mention their squad, the men they were responsible for. Their names will be for the night, when he can’t sleep and Echo sits with him in the quiet. 

“I want to send you and Echo for ARC training,” Captain Rex says with that beloved voice. Fives wonders if it will be enough. 

 

He is an ARC and it is not only dreams. 

ARC training is hard, the hardest thing he has ever done. It also comes to him as naturally as breathing. The harder he pushes the more he realises that his limits are far more than he ever imagined. He doesn’t just have good instincts, he has an almost supernatural sense for where to be, how to move, when to shoot. Echo watches him and tells him that he is leaving his batch mate behind. There’s no anger or jealousy in Echo’s voice when he says this, only quiet awe and pride, but he feels hollow anyway as he thinks on it. 

There’s a quiet voice in his head – not Captain Rex, not this time – the quiet whisper that used to tell him _not yet_ now tells him _you know what this is_. He doesn’t want to believe it though, he’s afraid of what it will mean. The dreams are bad enough, warnings he feels supremely unqualified to handle. Yet he’s also afraid of what it will mean if he _doesn’t_ believe it, if he denies until he can’t anymore, of who will die because of his stubborn disbelief. 

He’s not with the 501st right now, but he still spends the quiet hours of the night cycle walking the halls or in the shooting range. Sleep is an inconsistent friend even when dreams do not plague him. It is in these quiet hours that he sits and he holds out a shaking hand and watches a charge pack for his blaster rise without him actually touching it. 

This, he knows, this is the realm of Jedi. But he isn’t a Jedi, he’s a clone and he doesn’t think that anyone will appreciate a clone, even an ARC trooper, using abilities that are the purview of the Jedi. The dreams are enough, he thinks, and it’s not like he can ask for training for this. He won’t pretend it doesn’t exist, but he’s not going to mention it either. To everyone else Fives will just be an extraordinarily talented clone, and the truth will be nothing but a whisper between him and Echo. 

 

He is a Lieutenant and he dreams of the Citadel. 

It’s not often, not yet. His dreams start off small, coming in bits and pieces at first, with the details coming in later sometimes not even until as the event happens. He doesn’t need the details though because he can hear his own voice calling out for Echo and he already knows what it is. He tries to shove it out of his mind, focus on the mission. When that doesn’t work he finds a way to be with the 501st and walk the halls in the middle of the night until Captain Rex appears. 

“Do you ever sleep?” Rex asks as they step into the shooting range. 

“Sleep and I have never been friends,” he replies, “I make sure I get enough that it’s not a detriment, but I doubt I’ll ever sleep like a normal person.” 

“Dreams?” Rex asks and he snorts. Rex has no idea and he has no intention of informing his Captain. They have more reason to interact now than they did, since he came out of ARC training an officer, albeit only a 2nd Lieutenant. He could imagine, now, Rex remembering him when he’s gone but he’s not sure yet why Rex would beg. 

He dreams of the Citadel but he doesn’t tell Echo, at least not until they get the briefing. Echo looks so excited because this is a mission of a lifetime, like it will be an adventure simply because he hasn’t mentioned it when they talk about his dreams. His brother knows him too well, though, because it doesn’t take more than a look before Echo’s enthusiasm fades into blank horror. They both know that Echo can’t stay behind, they are needed. 

“I’ll be careful,” Echo promises him, pulling him tight into a hug. “But if I don’t come back, promise me, promise me vod’ika that you’ll tell someone. Don’t carry this alone.” 

“Please don’t die,” he begs. 

“It won’t be your fault,” Echo insists. “If I die, it will _never_ be your fault. But I promise, I will do everything I can to survive.” 

He knows he and Echo have a bond, he just has never realised what sort of bond that is. If he had ever dared to admit to a Jedi the truth then they could have told him. They could have let him know what it would be like to feel his bondmate burning alive as he was dragged away. They could have told him what it meant that, when the dust settles, he _knows_ Echo has kept his promise. He is alive out there, somewhere. He is in terrible pain, but he is alive. Fives wants to look but he doesn’t know where or how. 

 

He is alone and his dreams are filled with darkness. 

He looks. Of course he looks. He looks and keeps on looking until he doesn’t even realise it’s been three months and he hasn’t seen any of his brothers in that time. It’s been three months and the GAR is on the verge of declaring him a liability or worse. Commander Cody pins him down before he can take another mission to the far reaches of the galaxy in desperate search for Echo. 

“You will join the 501st on their next campaign and you will behave,” Cody informs him in a deadly serious voice. “If you don’t then we won’t be able to protect you anymore. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” he understands perfectly. He wants to tell Cody that Echo is alive, that he can find him, but he knows it won’t do anything but have him marched off for reconditioning on the assumption that grief has broken him. 

It isn’t until he touches down on Umbara, jumping off the shuttle that had given him a lift from the 212th’s flagship, that he realises the darkness he’s been dreaming of this planet and it’s perpetual near-darkness for weeks. Something terrible is going to happen here, he knows, and he nearly missed it because he was too busy looking for Echo. 

It takes ten minutes for him to realise why everyone is on edge around him. Everyone is under the impression he’s been gone so long because he’s been grieving, or because he blamed Skywalker or Rex for what happened to Echo. So he musters a smile, approaches Rex and makes a joke about how long he’s been gone and then everything is fine again. 

Well, aside from Krell. 

_Wrong, wrong, wrong_ the voice that isn’t Rex (the Force, his mind insists but he pretends otherwise) whispers in his mind from the very moment Krell steps off the shuttle and he feels his heart sink as Skywalker disappears. Krell feels _terrible_ , cold and Dark and he doesn’t know how Skywalker, how any Jedi, could miss it. They haven’t though, which means it is his problem now. It is his responsibility to keep his brothers safe from this Fallen Jedi. 

It goes badly. He pleads with Rex, begs him to do something, anything and he _gets_ it. He _knows_ why Rex can’t, in case Krell _isn’t_ a traitor and just an asshole, because they’d all get court martialled or terminated if they mutinied against an asshole. But Krell _is_ a traitor, he knows it, and by the time he’s facing down a firing squad of his own brothers he’s willing to admit _how_ he knows it if it means Krell can’t hurt them anymore. 

In the end, it doesn’t matter. He feels his blaster getting lifted, but he pretends he doesn’t. There is no satisfaction in seeing Krell dead, nothing but exhaustion and relief that, whatever happens now, it is over. 

_I should have done more_ he tells Echo through the bond, not sure if his brother can hear him. He can’t feel anything back except for the strange mixture of pain and numbness that came from torture and drugs. Umbara was a wakeup call, he can’t ignore the dreams the Force sends him, he can’t ignore his legion, but he can’t leave Echo either. 

Rex finds him in the shooting range and they both look terrible. Haunted and guilty. He remembers his promise to Echo, to tell someone, but he can’t bring himself to. The words stick in his throat. He should have done more. Instead he shoots until his fingers ache and he’s vibrating from the need for _something_. He doesn’t know who starts it he just knows one minute they’re wasting ammo on their stress and the next they’re kissing as if it was their last night before a red dawn. Fives didn’t know he needed this until he is curled up around his beloved stranger, safe and loved. 

 

His is not alone but he still dreams. 

Rex doesn’t turn him away, after that night, but he looks oddly sad whenever they end up in one of their bunks. He thinks he knows why, but he’s not going to push until his Captain actually asks. Instead he thinks about his dreams, thinks about their Commander running and afraid but it makes no sense. Why would she be in danger on Coruscant? 

“Is this okay?” Rex asks eventually, as he knew he would. He smiles. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks in return, pressing a kiss to the crease in Rex’s forehead that only appears when he’s worrying too much. Rex’s response is fairly expected – rank, regs, Echo. 

“I haven’t given a flying fuck about ranks and regs since I went in for ARC training,” He points out sensibly, “I stopped caring about your rank before that.” He doesn’t say why, he’s not sure he can explain it coherently without explaining… well, the whole dreams thing. He knows he promised Echo, he just doesn’t know how. Rex smiles anyway, but still sad which is when he realises he missed one bit. “Me ‘n Echo aren’t like that,” he adds nuzzling into Rex’s neck hopefully. It isn’t until Rex tenses that he realises what he just said. 

“Weren’t,” he corrects and then sighs. He feels Rex’s fingers stroking through his hair. “I know he’s gone. I’m not… I am processing it,” well, for a given value of ‘processing’. “It just doesn’t feel real. We were never lovers, but we were close. I always figured I’d _feel_ it, if he died and I didn’t. It trips me up sometimes.” It’s the closest he thinks he can come without admitting to everything. 

“You’re not a Jedi, cyar’ika,” Rex says and the endearment tells him, more than anything else, he is forgiven for the slip. 

“Can you imagine?” he asks lifting his head up and grinning. 

“Yes,” Rex says, reaching up to trace his tattoo with his fingers. “You’d look good in robes, dancing across the battlefield with a lightsaber.” His breath hitches at the thought. He’s never… it’s one thing to dream to, maybe, possibly, be something more (you know what it is his mind insists), it’s another to think about what comes with that. He’s a soldier, he’d love a lightsaber, but it’s not for him. 

“Do you think clones can be Force sensitive?” he asks trying to hide the desperate need for an answer. He can’t though, because his tongue trips up over the words he’s never said and never dared think. Rex definitely notices because he doesn’t treat it as a joke, he thinks about it seriously before answering. 

“I’ve never heard of one,” he says carefully. “I guess that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Just seems though as if it is one of those things the long-necks wouldn’t like, so would weed out.” 

“Probably,” it might explain why he’s the only one. He’d never mentioned his dreams to anyone, even his squad, before he left Kamino, and he hadn’t pushed himself to the point where the other things started to show until ARC training. It was one advantage of being in a failing squad. 

Rex is less sad after that, less guilty and he’s glad. He wants his Captain happy, as much as possible, because one of them should be. His dreams are getting louder and he knows something bad is going to happen to Commander Tano, he just doesn’t know what. It still doesn’t make sense, because why could she be standing before the Jedi Council looking so small and young and afraid? Their commander is the bravest person he knows; she would stand tall against the Council whatever fear she felt. 

That’s why he’s as surprised as any of them when she’s accused of treason and setting off the explosion in the temple. Rex is coordinating the searches and he should be joining them. He pauses though because… because it would be so easy. He’s an ARC, he can ask to go out solo on the premise that he can find her quicker. But what could he do if he chooses that path? It’d be perfectly evident to anyone with eyes that he isn’t helping find Commander Tano, but helping her hide. Instead, he lets Rex assign him to the Courascant Guard and leads them on a merry chase as he knows his Captain wants him to. If anyone is going to find Commander Tano it is the 501st or maybe Koon’s 127th. 

It doesn’t make him feel better later when he hears the full story. He knows, as Rex does, that she won’t be coming back long before Skywalker tells them. That night he and Rex kiss each other’s guilt away, though Fives thinks that neither of them will be sleeping much in the days to come. 

 

He is a weapon and his dreams tell him what that means. 

He doesn’t claim to know Tup well before he starts to dream of the man, but he recognises him and, knowing what usually comes next, makes it his mission to befriend him. Tup is sweet and kind and incredibly talented, but he’s also alone and he has been since Umbara stole away his best friend. He empathises, knowing Echo is still out there but not what his fate is, and Tup latches on like a lost soul. Rex is amused by the sudden friendship, makes sly jokes about being jealous, but mostly lets them get on with it. 

The dreams about Tup come in confused fragments, nothing like his usual dreams. It trips up against something in his mind, several somethings. The dreams remind Fives of the interrogation resistance training all ARCs get, when he was drugged. They also remind him of something he can’t remember and it hurts his head every time he tries. It’s like something inside him is making him forget, over and over again, something important and terrible all at once. 

He doesn’t really notice Tup’s headaches, because he’s getting his own. His insomnia is worse than ever and not even Rex’s warm body can get him to relax through the night shift. That one dream, the one that has been with him since before he could remember, haunts him more than ever. _Fives no. C’mon Fives. Don’t go, stay with me, stay with me. Fives. Fives. Don’t go._ It remains Rex’s voice, desperately begging. 

The night before they deploy on Ringo Vinda he sits in his bunk, waiting for a socially acceptable time to go and knock on his Captain’s door, and realises it is the last time he will sit here, on this ship. 

“I don’t want to die,” he says out loud. Then, because that is a redundant statement: “Who will save Echo if I’m not here?” an equally redundant question. Rex will save Echo. 

He sits and he thinks about his whole life, about the dreams that have haunted him for so long. He realises that he’s never been able to stop them, not completely. He has saved brothers here and there, has given comfort and strength to those who needed it, but whatever he dreams of always happens. He doesn’t want to die, but he knows whatever is going to happen to Tup will lead to his death. 

Another man might run from that knowledge, might steal away his lover and his friend and go search out his brother instead. Flee from what is coming. 

Fives is not another man. 

Fives is a clone, a solider, a weapon and about to learn what that fully entails. 

Fives is a Force sensitive and has picked up more from the Jedi than he will ever realise. 

 

He takes up a datapad and writes. It’s a confession to Rex that will come too late, but he needs to leave his beloved stranger something. 

_It isn’t your fault._ He knows Rex will blame himself anyway. _I understand, more than I thought I would when the time came. It is not my place to survive. I can only make sure the warning, whatever it is, gets to those who can make a difference in time. I hope I do. I hope I don’t fail in this final duty I’ve been given._

He writes other things, things he has never been able to say out loud and hopes Rex will read the words and understand. Then he realises he owes Rex more than just a letter from the grave. Once he has finished his tale and left the datapad somewhere Rex will find when the time comes he goes to find his beloved Captain. He won’t tell Rex everything, not now, not with what waits, but he can tell him the important part. 

“I love you,” he whispers into Rex’s ear as they lay side-by-side, limbs entangled and sweat cooling on their bare skin. Rex pauses, then looks at him oddly. 

“You want something,” his lover says suspiciously and he chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. 

“Not tonight,” he says in answer. “Tonight I have everything. It’s still true, though. I love you.” 

“Whatever it is you’re after, ask me after this campaign,” Rex instructs him and he chuckles, not in the least bit offended. His eyes slide closed as he breathes in Rex’s scent and his warmth and all the peace of this moment. His body relaxes by increments. If this is to be his last night then it is a good night. One of the best. 

He is half asleep, but not yet lost to his dreams, when he hears it. 

“I love you too,” 

Fives smiles and then sleeps. 

 

He is dying, but it’s okay because his dreams have never lied to him before. 

It is non-stop from Ringo Vinda to Kamino to Courascant, he barely has time to catch his breath let alone dwell on what he has learned. He knows now why he is a weapon – because he is meant to kill the Jedi, all his brothers are. He knows why his dreams have been so fractured – the chip wouldn’t let him remember and the drugs Nala Se gave him left him battling confusion. He knows why he won’t survive – he knows too much and the Sith Lord who is the Chancellor won’t have his plans leaked now when he is so close to success. 

He knows he’s not really thinking straight. He knows his words don’t make sense. He knows that threatening Rex and General Skywalker is a stupid way to get his point across. He knows that Palpatine is his General’s friend and Skywalker won’t hear a bad word against him. 

He knows all this, but it doesn’t stop him. He has to try. He will die either way because Sith are not known for letting loose threads stick around long. He just wants his death to mean something. He wants to do his duty. 

He has to warn them. He can’t let the guard stop him. He can’t go back to Palpatine, not yet. He hasn’t warned them… 

 

It doesn’t hurt. 

 

That’s strange. He’d thought it would hurt. It doesn’t, it’s just like one of his dreams. He can hear Rex calling for him, can see his worried golden eyes, feel those familiar hands shaking as they hold him. 

It doesn’t hurt. 

He needs… he needs… 

The warning... 

His dreams… 

 

He can feel it; warmth and love surrounding him, whispering quiet reassurance. _It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. You aren’t alone._ The voice that’s been with him as long as Rex’s voice has. He knows it, it’s in his heart and soul. 

The Force. 

There, he admitted it. Echo would be proud of him. 

Or not, because he’s dying. He thought dying would hurt more. 

 

Rex is still there. How long has it been? He’s not saying the words yet; he’s supposed to say the words. 

 

The Force hums around him, soft and gentle and warm. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t hurt? It’s so big, the Force, so much more than one lowly soldier could understand, but that’s okay. 

“It’s bigger than all of us,” he doesn’t even realise he is speaking until Rex’s hands clench on his borrowed armour. He looks like he’s going to cry. He doesn’t want Rex to cry, this was always going to happen. He prefers it, even, to some pointless death on the battlefield. At least here Rex is with him. His beloved stranger. 

“I just wanted to do my duty,” he’s too far gone, he knows, he can’t warn them now. He’ll just have to hope his confused words were enough to get through. The Force soothes his fears that he wasn’t enough and that’s nice. He wishes it was like that for every dream he had. 

It occurs to him that he’s dying, that there won’t be any more dreams. He can sleep now, just sleep. No more disturbed nights and fears of failing. 

“The mission. The nightmares. They’re finally over.” 

The world is greying over, it’s not just a lack of hurt now; he can’t feel anything. The Force sings in his ears and he wants to smile but can’t get his lips to work. It’s okay, he realises. It’s really okay. 

He closes his eyes. 

_Fives no. C’mon Fives. Don’t go, stay with me, stay with me. Fives. Fives. Don’t go._

And Fives dreams. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the original story wasn't painful enough.

My beloved Captain.

My Rex.

I knew your voice before I knew my own name. I knew it before I met Echo; I knew it before I even knew the world outside my cloning tank. You’ll probably find it hard to believe, but I’ve had your voice with me, every day of my life, offering me a promise. Whatever else happens I won’t be alone when I die. Someone will care enough to beg me not to go. 

I know I’m dead. I’m dead and I need you to promise me something. Don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. I understand, more than I thought I would when the time came. It is not my place to survive. I can only make sure the warning, whatever it is, gets to those who can make a difference in time. I hope I do. I hope I don’t fail in this final duty I’ve been given.

You’re probably confused right now. I’m sorry for that and I’m sorry I could never bring myself to say anything while I was still alive. A confession from the grave isn’t what you deserve, but when it comes to this I’ll freely admit I’m a coward.

I’ve dreamt of what is to come my whole life. I dreamt that Domino squad would fail training, that we would be granted a final chance to pass a week before it happened. I dreamt of Rishii and droids, eels and Hevy’s last words for weeks before the first so-called meteor broke through the atmosphere. Kamino, the Citadel, Umbara… all of them. And when I went for ARC training I discovered that dreams weren’t the only thing I could do.

But I’m not a Jedi. I’m a clone, just one clone.

I’ve never stopped my dreams before. I’ve affected them, changed them, saved brothers wherever I could but I’ve never stopped them entirely. That’s why I know. I know when we leave for Ringo Vinda I’m not coming back. I don’t know the details, not yet, but I know it’s something to do with Tup. I know there’s a warning I need to pass on. I don’t know if I’ll succeed. I pray I will, because my whole life has been building to this moment and to fail now...

I don’t really know why I’m writing this, except that you deserve something. Is it a confession? An explanation? A desperate plea for you to listen to whatever warning I have? Maybe it’s none of those things. Maybe it’s meant to be thanks.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for caring.

I’ve wondered why I have the dream; the one where you beg me not to leave. Why that dream was the first? Most of my dreams only begin a couple of weeks before the event, not years. For most of my life it’s been a comfort, to know I wouldn’t be alone in the final moments. Recently though, I’ve doubted that is all it is. I’ve wondered if I dreamed it so early as some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, driving me onwards, making sure I wasn’t alone at the last moment. That there was someone there with me who would care enough to listen. But that’s stupid. You’re a better man than that. You’d listen to any one of your men, simply because they’re your men.

I don’t have an answer, but I know what I want it to be. I want it to be the Force granting me this one gift. Without that dream I’d never have dared presume on your time as a trooper. I told you I’d stopped caring about your rank a long time ago, and it’s true, I stopped caring in those quiet moments on the range, just the two of us and my nightmares. Without the dream you would still have been there when I died, you would still have listened to the warning, still wanted me not to leave, just as you would with any of your men. But without the dream the only time I’d ever know what your arms felt like would be as I was leaving you.

You are a gift, Rex. I know we don’t talk about this, not nearly as much as we probably should, but I love you. I mean it. No jokes or pleas for interesting missions, or trying to get out of trouble. Not this time. I love you. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m going to die, and I’m okay with that, really. But if I could live... If it was an option… I’d live just to be with you a little longer. Please, please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.

And please don’t do anything stupid.

I know I’ve given you a warning. I know it’s really important. But swear to me Rex; don’t do anything stupid because of me. I want you to live. Whatever the warning is, if it only saves you then that’s enough. I don’t want to fail, but I don’t want to succeed at the price of your life either. Be sensible. You’re better at that than me, at thinking things through when the galaxy is falling apart around us. Don’t be stupid, don’t lose yourself to pain. Be my brilliant, unstoppable Captain.

I’m running out of time. I want to see you one last time before we ship out, one last chance to curl in your arms. There’s just one last thing I need to say.

Echo isn’t dead. I know he’s not. I told you that I always believed if he died I’d know it. That wasn’t just me grieving or wishing. I know it to be true. As much as I know I love you, I know my brother isn’t dead. You’re going to find him, somehow, when I’ve failed. When you do, show him this letter, there’s nothing in it that will overly surprise him, or at least this paragraph. He needs to know not to blame himself just as much as you do. He kept my secret and no doubt he’ll think by keeping it he all but signed my death certificate. It’s bullshit. Echo, my beloved brother, you and Rex can take your misplaced guilt and shove it where the stars don’t shine. My death is no one’s fault. Look after each other, please. I love you both.

How am I supposed to end this? The words won’t come now, as easily as they flowed before. I just. I said I was okay with dying, and I am, but how am I supposed to end this knowing it’s the last piece of me I’ll be able to give you? I don’t know when you’ll find this, how long it will take you to read it. It could be less than an hour after I’ve left you, it could be days and it doesn’t matter which one because I don’t know what I can say to comfort you.

I guess there isn’t anything I could say that would do that. I guess there’s really only one way to bring this to an end.

I love you.

Yours, forever.

Fives.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel like this should have had a slight-OOC warning for Fives, because if he was Force sensitive you just know he'd be showing off a lot. But I like this sad, kinda-too-nervous-to-tell-Rex, Fives so he's the one who got written and I didn't want to put people off.
> 
> Also for the record, I'm not normally a Rex/Fives shipper, don't know how this fic ended up with that as the only real pairing but hopefully it worked okay and wasn't too forced.
> 
> Finally: several of my headcanons in here so if you have questions, please ask because I like talking about them.


End file.
